BroTps
by AngelAxexinf
Summary: A spot for all of the BroTPs for The Clone Wars I'll write.
1. Chapter 1

They sat next to each other, side-by-side, as if they were actual brothers who cared for each other.

According to Ridge, they weren't brothers. He'd said so multiple times.

That, however, did not prevent Marik from trying his best when Ridge wanted to bear his emotions to him. Marik didn't look at him—not much, anyway—but focused his gaze on his feet, the same way Ridge did.

"What was his name?" his voice was soft, and the darkness of the barracks seemed to swallow up more of it. His elbows were braced on his knees, ankles nearly crossed.

Ridge sat in almost the same position, hunched over and somber, except he held a pillow to his chest as if it were a life line. He seemed to be building up the words, searching for the courage to open his mouth and speak. His jaw worked for the next few moments.

"His name was Dal," he said finally. He took a breath, in, out.

"Dal…" Marik said softly to himself. He almost recognized the name—he must have, because he knew many people within the 686th. He may have run into him at some point.

Ridge swallowed. "He…he was my friend." He picked at nonexistent lint on the pillow.

"He still _is_ your friend, Ridge," Marik corrected softly. "Just because he's gone doesn't mean he isn't still with you."

Ridge seemed to flinch, just a bit, before slowly nodding in agreement. "Okay."

Silence.

"He…he was actually a lot like you." Ridge's mouth was nearly smothered by the pillow, his voice so low that Marik had to strain his ears to hear.

"Me?" He was more disbelieving than curious. If Dal and he were so alike, why did Ridge go out of his way to make Marik feel like trash?

Marik shook his head, immediately banishing the thought. Now was not the time to guilt Ridge for his feelings.

"He was like you, just…quieter," Ridge said after a moment for silence. "Positive and upbeat, but more sober." He snorted, a harsh and hard sound. He smiled fondly at whatever memory floated through his head.

Marik wasn't sure how he felt about that. He folded his hands, waiting for Ridge to continue.

Ridge's smile faded. "To be honest, he was my first brother." He was gripping the pillow tighter now, _much_ tighter.

"First?" Marik didn't enjoy the feelings of discomfort and out-of-place anger he was getting in his gut. Jealousy wasn't something he was use to.

Ridge nodded. "I transferred into another squad when I was…two." He spoke slowly, as if afraid that the words would come back and bite him. Obviously, bad memories were associated with the phrases.

"Two?" Biologically four. He had been young.

Ridge took another breath. "They…didn't accept me." It was pain that made him curl up around his pillow.

Marik felt his blood run cold. Didn't _accept_ him? He was _two_; what could have possibly happened in such a short time that would make _children_ turn on each other?

"Didn't accept you?" It was difficult for him to keep the emotion out of his voice. "What do you mean they didn't _accept_ you?"

"They didn't accept me," Ridge said simply. "I was new, small, and they didn't like me—to them, I was just a sorry replacement for a brother they lost in training." His forefinger traced light circles on the pillow's grey cloth.

He said it as if it made sense.

Marik could only shake his head. "That's not how brothers work, Ridge." It was nowhere _near_ how they were supposed to work. Brothers loved each other and cared for each other—they didn't ostracize the ones they didn't know. It made Marik's stomach curl.

He scowled. "I know."

Silence again.

"Once we left Kamino, I immediately requested a squad transfer. They weren't upset that I left." He shrugged almost nonchalantly. "I wish I'd chosen a different squad instead of just going for the first one they gave me…"

Red flags shot up in Marik's head. "Why? What was wrong with them?"

A myriad of negative emotions displayed themselves on his face, from hurt, to anger, to shame and embarrassment. Finally, he settled on cold neutrality. "They were nice at first…" Ridge straightened up a bit, still holding the pillow.

Marik silently prompted him on.

"Then…it just went back to the teasing and hitting. They—they always said that since we were friends—_brothers_," he spat out the word, scowling, "that it was okay. And I believed them." His face twisted in anger before just as quickly relaxing into defeat and sadness.

"How long were you with them?" Marik asked softly. His mind had barely moved past the "hitting". How hard had it been? Was that why he always moved away when someone got too close?

"Right up until I joined Crusade Squad," he answered, avoiding Marik's eyes. "I didn't realize how much I hated them until I joined you guys. I was so sure they'd be less mean the longer I stayed with them, until they—" He suddenly cut himself off, staring at the floor in near panic as if it would swallow him whole. His breathing hitched in his throat.

"Ridge? What's wrong? What'd they do to you?" Marik's muscles tensed in anger and hatred for men he'd never even met.

He suddenly snapped himself out of it. "Nothing. They didn't do anything." That was as bold-faced a lie as suns were hot.

Marik took the hint not to press further. He changed the subject. "You hated all of them?"

Ridge pursed his lips, staring at the floor as if pleading with it for help. "No, not all of them. There…was one named Dal."

_Dal_. Marik _had_ heard the name before. This wasn't the first time Ridge was mentioning him. "Your first and only brother," Marik said, finishing the painful statement for him.

But that couldn't have been true, could it? Marik saw how he acted around Cord; it was obvious they were closer, close than either of them would have otherwise shown around other clones.

It hurt that they refused everyone but the other's company. It really did.

Ridge nodded, folding his lips in. He changed positions to lean back against the bunk post, now cross-legged and facing Marik. He almost resembled a child that needed comforting; he was still clutching the pillow.

Marik mirrored his position so they were facing each other.

Despite what Ridge said about Marik, he would always be there for someone he considered a brother, regardless of Ridge's thoughts on the matter. Ridge's comments stung, yes, but they wouldn't deter him from listening to Ridge open up when he desperately needed to.

"He—" Ridge swallowed around the rock forming in his throat. "He was actually _nice_ to me. He stood up for me and…and I didn't even know what it was like to have a friend before then." His shoulders hunched, hands gripping his biceps till his finger tips turned white.

Marik was aware of the shininess of Ridge's eyes in the darkness. His heart broke, and he could feel the pieces crashing inside him.

"I-I miss him." And the tears came, small in number but heavy. The tiny sob was loud in the noiseless barracks. Ridge's hands relaxed, falling to his forearms and staying there.

Marik leaned forward, wiping off one of the tears from Ridge's face with his hand. "Ridge, you know he still loves you, and you still love him. Dal is still with you."

Ridge sniffed, a small and pitiful noise. "I know, but…"

Marik gripped his bare hands, entwining their fingers together and holding them firm. "Ridge, I know what it's like to lose a brother. My…my whole squad didn't make it off Kamino. I was the only one."

Ridge raised his eyes toward Marik, sorrowful and desolate. "I'm sorry."

Marik shook his head. "Don't be. I still love them, even though they're gone. Sometimes thinking about them hurts, but then I remember all the good times we had together."

Ridge's mouth was almost completely smothered by the pillow. His voice came out low and muffled. "I didn't have any good times with my squads," he said bitterly.

Marik squeezed his hands again, amazed he'd been able to hold them for this long. "But you had good times with Dal, otherwise you wouldn't miss him the way you do." He felt increased pressure on his fingers for a short moment before Ridge's hands relaxed again. Gently, he swept his thumb across his knuckles.

He'd squeezed back—Marik took that as a sign.

"Missing him hurts," Ridge said. "But…"

"But?" He had to lean forward, Ridge's voice was so low.

"I…I think I'll be able to get used to it. It'll hurt less in the future." Ridge looked at Marik, a question on his face. _Am I right?_ it said.

Marik nodded. "It will, trust me." There was plenty of warning when he shifted forward, extending his arms. Ridge had every chance to back away.

He didn't fight off the hug, instead accepted it and even wrapped his own arms around Marik's torso.

_Like brothers_, Marik couldn't help but think. "Feel better, Ridge."

He hiccupped. "Thank you."


	2. Pillow Sobs

Nothing was worse than trying to hide sobs under a pillow.

Ridge hated how he sounded, hated how loud he was, and he _hated_ the fact that the pillow was so thin and everyone just wanted to sleep—himself included. However, there was no stopping the stream of tears that soaked the bed sheet. Every time he tried to stop, hold his breath, or quiet down, his forced moment of silence was met with loud coughing under the stuffy pillow.

He curled into an even tighter ball, forcefully biting his fist and only bringing more tears to his eyes. Ridge couldn't remember what had started the barrage of tears in the middle of the night, and he didn't care to. He either had a nightmare or couldn't stop thinking about everything wrong with his life, but at that point it didn't matter because his need to stop crying increased when he heard Marik climbing out of his bed.

He didn't stop, of course. It was too much.

"Ridge? Ridge, are you alright?" Marik's voice sounded somewhere above Ridge, a hand shaking his shoulder lightly.

Ridge almost expected to see Cord's pale blue eyes staring at him instead of Marik's golden brown ones—preferred it, even. Instead, he had to deal with Marik sitting him up while he was wrapped up in a sadness-soaked blanket like a child, snot and tears covering his face, the pillow he was holding, and the part of the bed sheet that had been directly under his face.

Marik tried his best to wipe off Ridge's face with his hands, the heel of one palm pressing against his cheek.

"Ridge, buddy, what's the matter?" Marik asked, bending his head to meet Ridge's eyes. His voice was the kind of softness that was used to placate an upset child and Ridge despised how it almost worked on him.

Ridge didn't answer, of course—he didn't think he could. He only shook his head and tried to retreat into the space his body made with the blanket wrapped around him. His mad hiccupping was starting to calm down a bit, which was a plus. If only he'd been able to stop crying completely.

The next thing he knew, Marik's arms were around him and his face was being pressed into Marik's neck, one hand on the back of Ridge's head and the other rubbing small circles on his back. The tight hug was enough to get Ridge sobbing again because it felt _so much_ like how Dal used to hold him, back when he was alive and breathing and Ridge didn't feel as much like shit.

He could have pushed Marik away after that, retreated back to his stuffy space under the pillow with the soaked bed sheet, but he didn't—and he would question that decision later on. For the moment, however, he savored the close contact he didn't know he'd been desiring and just pressed his face into Marik's neck, the cloth of his undershirt thoroughly damp by now.

"It's alright, Ridge. I've got you," he said, continuing to rub his back in warm circles. Slowly, gently, be began rocking back and forth, as if Ridge were an actual child and not an almost-grown man.

Ridge certainly felt like a child. And for the first time since waking everyone up with his tears, he spoke.

"I-I miss him…"

He did. He truly, truly did—and the feeling hurt like hell, knowing that the last time he saw Dal was when he couldn't do anything to help him.

"Shh…It's alright Ridge. I miss my brothers too," Marik whispered, aiming his voice directly into Ridge's ear. Somehow, he was able to hear it above all of his crying.

"A-And…" Ridge choked on his words. "I m-miss her, too…" His tears had slowed a bit, enough for him to get the words out. He kept his arms around Marik's torso, only turning his head slightly so he could get some air.

Marik didn't say anything. Ridge could see that he'd closed his eyes. Finally, he opened them. "You had a girl you lost?" It wasn't in condemnation, which Ridge was thankful for, but had Marik known who that "girl" was, he was sure he wouldn't have been so understanding.

He didn't speak, only nodded pathetically while his head rested on Marik's shoulder. His sobs had died down to crying, which had died down to hiccupping and sniffing.

"You wanna talk about it?" Marik asked, simply holding Ridge now. He pulled the blanket up to Ridge's shoulders.

"No…" His voice was still shaking and thick.

"Okay," Marik said, picking up the back rub again. "That's alright, Ridge. Just know that I'm here for you, alright?"

Ridge was glad Marik didn't say "your brothers", otherwise he would have started sobbing again.

Marik sat Ridge up again, wrapping the blanket tightly around him and wiping off the last of the tears with the palms of his hands. "Are you gonna be okay?" he asked, looking Ridge straight in the eye.

Ridge considered lying so he wouldn't be alone again. "Yeah. I'll be fine." He sniffed, rubbing a hand across his nose. He needed a tissue.

"Okay, just…" Marik's eyes turned sad for a moment. "Just don't be afraid to talk to me, alright? I'm here to listen if you need me to."

Ridge nodded silently, hiccupping again. He lay back down on his bed, rolling over onto his side. Marik gently cupped his face before turning back to his own bunk, crawling under the blanket and falling asleep.

Ridge sniffed, staring at the bottom of the upper bunk. Sleepily, he traced the grooves and lines in the metal, his mind slowly filling with the happier moments he had with his brother. He flicked his eyes to the right, where Marik's back rose and fell slowly. What would he say about this in the morning? Ridge hoped he wouldn't mention it at all; he didn't need any more embarrassment than he'd already suffered. He sniffed again, blinking wearily at the grey metal above him.

He almost wished that Marik would come back and stay up with him, just to keep away any potential night terrors. He almost wished he could have opened up to him.

Almost.

Marik snored softly from his bunk.

Ridge sighed, pulling the sheets up to his chin.

* * *

**I am currently in need of a better title for this, but here ya go! There are a few more chapters I'd like to upload before I'm fresh out of ideas.**

**~AAx**


	3. Mother

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Kiki gave him a faint, tired smile. "I'm sure, Ridge," she said, voice soft, tired.

Ridge didn't seem convinced, but nonetheless nodded and sat cross-legged beside her. Water dripped from the uneven ceiling of the dark cave, falling to form puddles on the pebble-covered ground.

Kiki lay on her semi-bed—a pile of sticks, then leaves, then a blanket on top. Everything was at least at little bit damp. Kiki's bandages were damp and Ridge was so afraid of infection that he washed them out every day with hot water heated from the pile of dry sticks he was collecting. He'd gone in search of a village with no luck.

He could hear Kiki's breathing—shallow and tired and coming in through her mouth.

_Drip…drip…drip…_

He gripped her hand, her cold fingers.

"I love you, General."

Silence. Her face was aimed at the ceiling, where ripples from the ground reflected themselves onto the rough rock above. She stared at it often, sometimes to a worrying point.

Ridge felt his stomach sink. What did he expect her to say? "I love you too?" He needed to hear _something_.

"Is…is that wrong?" Of _course_ it was wrong. It was very wrong. He wasn't meant to feel any sort of attachment to his commanding officer—that kind of thing was worthy of a court martial, maybe even a transfer into a different company. His heart sank.

She took a breath, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. "I don't know," she half-whispered. Talking was obviously causing her a great deal of trouble. "Is it? Is it wrong?"

"I…" Ridge hadn't expected her to say that. "I don't know." He sounded shameful and he didn't know why.

"How…" She took a breath. "How do you love me?"

Ridge's head snapped up. "How?" He hadn't considered it. How did he love her? "You…you're like a mother to me," he began, then stopped.

"And?" Her breathing was slightly heavier. For the first time, she looked at him. "I know there's more."

He swallowed. "You've been so kind to me, even when you thought I was the one pulling the pranks and breakings regs." He sighed. "I've…never had someone be that kind to me. You didn't lose your patience when I couldn't understand something, or when I was too scared to try because I didn't want to mess up in front of people." He met her eyes, the intensity of his gaze meeting her own. "I love you for that, General."

The look on her face could only be described as that of a proud mother watching her child walk for the first time. She smiled softly, closed her eyes. "Thank you, Ridge. I love you too."

He couldn't help his small gasp. He felt the grip on his fingers tighten before it relaxed again.

Kiki, with a grunt, rolled over. Ridge was about to protest when she held a finger up. "Ridge." She took a deep breath, fighting off a small wave of pain. "Help me up."

"I can't; you're in pain." Ridge still held her hand, the other pressed against her shoulder to try to force her back onto the "bed".

She shook her head. "I'm fine, Ridge." She was already getting herself up—he had no choice but to help her.

They faced each other.

Gently, Kiki cupped his face, tilting his head until she was able to press a soft kiss against his cheek. "My son," she whispered, and held him close like a real mother would hold her son.

Somewhere inside him, Ridge felt her happiness. It glowed and spread all throughout his chest to his limbs. He smiled.

"_Kanjal_."

_Mother._


	4. Lacking that Feeling

"I don't know…"

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I _don't know_."

Cord sits back in his chair, leveling a steady gaze at Ridge, who sits across from him. "Try to describe what you feel, then," he says. The bright medical bay lights shine down on the pair as the medic tries his best to figure out what had been bothering Ridge.

Ridge's face shows growing signs of discomfort. "That's kinda the problem, Cord…" Ridge huffs and runs agitated fingers through his red-streaked mohawk, a sign which Cord has learned means he's uncomfortable or embarrassed. "I don't think I really _feel_ anything."

"Meaning?"

Ridge groans, squeezing his hands into fists in his lap. He keeps his eyes on anything but Cord. He focuses on the angularness of the beds, the walls, and the doors that lead to other, larger parts that he'd never seen before. Everything is a varying shade of grey or blue-tinged.

The medbay falls silent for a few moments, but the chair squeaks under Ridge's weight.

"Ridge." Cord tips his head slightly to try and meet Ridge's eyes. It only barely works. "Describe your problem as best you can. I cannot help you unless I know what is bothering you."

Ridge purses his lips, the piercing under his lip sticking out a bit. "I was hanging out with my friends yesterday and we were just talking," he starts, "And they kept saying 'You know that feeling when you see a hot girl and it's been a while?' and I have no clue what they're talking about." This last part Ridge rushes out, speaking more to his lap than to Cord. It takes a moment for Cord to realize he's blushing. "What do they mean by that? By 'feeling'? I'm not really sure I know…" He could figure what "it's been a while" meant.

Cord, never one for expressing his thoughts with his face, remains almost eerily still, legs crossed and examining the other clone. If Ridge didn't know him so well, he'd say Cord had either frozen or was completely zoned out—still, the lack of reaction was beginning to bother him. Not even a blink. He shifts again, and the chair creaks in complaint.

"You know what attraction is, yes?" Cord asks. One hand strokes his chin and he looks at Ridge almost curiously.

Okay, not zoned out or frozen—mainly curious. Ridge nods. "Yeah, and how there are different types, right?"

It's Cord's turn to nod. "Now, Ridge, there is romantic and sexual attraction."

Ridge cuts him off. "T-There's…Um, Cord?" His fingers run through his hair again. Ridge's haircut isn't what it was when they started their conversation. "I'm not sure if I actually feel one of those…" He at least wasn't entirely sure what one of them felt like. He looks at Cord for affirmation, as if he'd actually be able to give it. His lips turn down, upset.

"That's completely normal, Ridge." Cord leans close enough to rest a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to feel any sexual attraction to anyone—"

"But I have a girlfriend—you know—and we've been dating for a while now, a-and…" Ridge stumbles over his words. "I-It's not like I don't love her or anything, I just…don't _feel _that way about her. I don't feel like I want to sleep with her." He isn't even sure if he'd be able to bring himself to, either.

"Ridge, that's alright. It is natural."

"Are you sure?" His face is creased with worry. Cord remembers previous conversations with Ridge, where the younger clone's normal speech habit was to speak in large chunks and drop off into silence for a bit. "B-Because _I'm_ not even sure, Cord. I tried to tell them I wasn't sure what they were talking about and they kept trying to explain it to me, but I still didn't even…" Ridge makes a noise caught between an exasperated sigh and an annoyed growl.

"But you have an inkling of an idea?" Cord tips his head another way, a barely noticeable move. His pale blue and brown eyes shine in the florescent lighting of the medbay. "You said you weren't sure what they were talking about."

For a third time, Ridge's fingers run through his hair—although this time, they grab the ends near his nose and hang there for a moment. He groans and huffs out a sigh again, frustrated not only with Cord's constant questions but with himself. "The sexual attraction thing. I think I might've…felt it once, maybe. One of them said it's where you're 'horny'…? I just don't know—" Ridge gives a shout of frustration and turns his eyes upward, sagging into his seat.

Cord proceeds with caution, carefully keeping an eye on the glazed look taking over the edges of Ridge's eyes. "Deep breath, Ridge," he says. "Was this before what happened?"

"What happened" is a funny way to put it. It still triggers memories, no matter how the incident is phrased or tiptoed around or hinted at. For a moment, Ridge has flashbacks to a cold metal bench and hard, cold fingers. He remembers panic and fear, shouting, and then the scorch of scalding water. He remembers shame and embarrassment.

"Yeah…" he answers, not quite able to bring himself to meet Cord's eyes. "Yeah, it was…it was right before. When we were one Rashav."

Cord remembers Rashav. There was a troupe of dancer women that entertained the soldiers while they camped in the forest—even taught a few of them some dance moves. The shinies danced clumsily but eagerly, following every step as best they could over sticks and twigs.

"There was the one dancer, and I sorta felt what they were talking about, I guess," Ridge says, his hand rubbing the back of his head. "Because I remember wanting to _be_ with her, you know? And I went to her place with her. I stayed there a-and…" His face flames into bright crimson. He hunches forward, chin in hand staring stubbornly at the grey floor.

"So you have a vague idea of what your friends were talking about?" Cord steers the conversation back to slightly more neutral territory.

"Shouldn't I know what they're talking about, though? They have all these stories of women they've been with and I sometimes have trouble just _sleeping_ in the same bed with Pelly—"

"That is unrelated, Ridge. You will be able to—"

"I haven't slept with her, Cord!" Ridge cries. He rises with enough force to knock the chair into the bed behind him. "I'm dating her and I don't even feel anything but romantic attraction to her, and you'd think I would considering how I've done it before and I liked it!" If Ridge sees a change on Cord's face, he doesn't note it and keeps going. "But it's been months now and she probably thinks there's something wrong with me and—" He cuts himself off, collapsing into his hard metal seat. His gloved hands cover his face and he remains like that until Cord jars him out of it.

"Ridge," Cord says, the firmness of his voice startling, "there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. It is completely normal not to feel sexual attraction to someone you're close to or not, whether occasionally or not at all—in your case, it is occasional."

Ridge still looks doubtful, a sour scowl lining his face. "C-Could this…could this effect my relationship with Pelly?" he asks. "Since I barely ever feel sexually attracted to her, and when I am, it's really short." He didn't want to lose Pelly. She was one of the few things he looked forward to after battle.

Cord squashes down the little feeling of triumph in his chest. There was always something rewarding about getting someone to explain what it was they believed was wrong with them. This is not the first time he's had this conversation. "No, it shouldn't—unless she is not that accepting of you, Ridge."

Ridge remains silent, lost within his own thoughts. Absently, as if by habit, he pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his heels delicately on the edge of the chair. Absolutely no sexual attraction whatsoever? Except in his case, he _did _feel it, just very rarely. Ridge wasn't sure if this was something he should rejoice about or feel more confused about. "Are you sure it's normal? That there isn't some wrong or just some kind of puberty thing?" He bloomed late—_very_ late—as a child and was still dealing with the effects.

Cord's eyes soften—they don't quite smile, but they're almost near—and he stands, prompting Ridge to do the same. "I'm like you, Ridge," he says, "but I don't feel sexual attraction at all."

Ridge's eyes widen in surprise. "At all?" So he wasn't the only one? A small part of him—somewhere in his chest, he notes—is overjoyed.

Cord nods. "Yes. It took me a while to figure it out myself, but I was glad I knew. It may be difficult to explain or accept, but it is better for you to know." He gives Ridge a pat on the shoulder. "Do you have any other questions?"

Ridge takes a deep breath. "Will this, um…affect my ability t-to—" Bright pink creeps up onto his cheeks and soon spreads to his entire face. "B-Because I've thought about it and—"

"It won't," Cord says. "You should be fine."

"O-Okay," he stutters dumbly. "Yeah, okay. I, um…" His words stall and he folds his lips in, suddenly nervous. "Thanks, Cord. Thank you." And he hugs the medic—very quick and short, barely even enough time for Cord to give him a stiff pat on the back, but he holds him tight and close. Ridge jumps back and swallows rather visibly. "Thanks again, and I'll, uh, see you at lunch?" he asks. Without waiting for an answer, he turns and rushes out the door.

Cord doesn't quite chuckle—he hasn't laughed in too many months to count—but he forces enough air out of his nostrils and his lips quirk up at the corners just enough for one to say he is actually amused.

* * *

_I decided I'd do something for Asexy April, which brings awareness to asexuality (the lack of sexual attraction). You can look up more about it on AvenWiki._

_Cord is canonically asexual, while Ridge is grey-ace, meaning he rarely experiences sexual attraction. And just to add: Marik is bi/pan and Kiki is pan._


End file.
